Circles - Chapter 1

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

  

 

 

1984

 

 

Stella Bridewell was in a foul mood. Once again the stupid idiot had upset her. As a result of their blazing row, she had stormed out of his flat. Now walking slowly through the deserted streets, Stella knew she was not committed to this relationship.

   God she had tried hard enough. Ever since she'd started seeing Tony, it had been obvious that she was the one in charge. She had goaded him, tried to build up his confidence - but all to no avail. Tony was content to stroll through life. He had no great desires or ambitions.

   The argument had started because Tony had given up his job. At twenty-two years old he’d decided that he couldn’t face another two years of training before becoming a social worker; so he had given his notice. The fact that he had no job to step into hadn’t occurred to him!

   Stella slowed as she approached the empty taxi rank. She slipped her bag from her shoulder and pulled the packet of cigarettes out. Stopping at the illuminated sign, she lit up a cigarette and pulled on it pensively. A car drew up and she opened the rear door.

   The cab was stuffy and filled with stale cigarette smoke. Stella wound down the window and stared out, lost in her thoughts as the driver slowly moved forward. “Beechcroft on Chiswell Road,” she informed the scruffy looking elderly driver.

   She was no snob; she just realized that she wanted to achieve something with her life. She was not about to give up at nineteen. If her future wasn't to be with Tony, then so be it. Flicking the cigarette butt out of the window, Stella decided to end it the next time he called round begging for her forgiveness.

 

 

The traps opened and the small fawn b***h broke quickly from the traps. In a matter of yards she had settled into her stride and headed the five other greyhounds. As she turned the first bend, the dogs behind her crowded, allowing her the luxury of a three length lead. Sensing victory, the b***h lengthened her stride and pushed her lean muscu1ar body further forward. A loud cheer went up around the track.

   The bookie shook his head s1owly; this was going to be a bad night. He wished he had made enough to retire. A few more results like this and he wouldn’t be able to afford a holiday abroad this year. Suddenly his ulcer started playing up again. He thought about the expensive fur coat his wife had just bought. Maybe he could get her to take it back. He reached inside his jacket pocket and found the bottle of tablets.

   In the bar, Robert Johnson smiled. The race was all but over. There was no way that Brighton Belle would be caught from that position. He polished of his brandy and made his way to the bookmaker’s rails. By the time he’d arrived, the result had been announced. He waited patiently in the line of punters and collected his £800 winnings. He’d been lucky to get 3/1. A minute after he had placed his bet the price had dropped to 2/1. There had been a mad surge to get on this good thing and at the off Brighton Belle had been a red hot 6/4 favourite. Robert’s £200 had never looked in danger.

   Although there were still four more races, there was nothing worth a good gamble on. Robert had no intention of giving back any of his £2,000 winnings to the bookies. He said goodbye to the group he had been with, and left the stadium.

   It was still early by the time he returned to his flat, too early to go to sleep. He changed out of his suit and pulled on a pair of Levis and a tee shirt. Taking off his glasses, he combed his low cut hair. He picked up the baby lotion and applied some to his already smooth black face.

   A couple of inches less than six feet tall, Robert had the, slim, yet athletic body of a dancer. He was lucky not to have to shave daily. Once he’d wished he could grow a beard or moustache, but as soon as got he’d over the novelty of shaving, he’d realized just how fortunate he was. He could get away without a shave for four days and not show any stubble. More important, he never suffered from any unsightly shaving rash.

   He dabbed on some Anteus, replaced his glasses then stooped to pick up his wallet. Taking a denim jacket from the wardrobe, he turned off the lights and shut the door.

“Where to mate?’ the driver asked chirpily.

“The Duke please.”

“Got you,” he said putting the car into gear.

   The taxi driver was in a happy, talkative mood. During the five-minute trip, he covered almost every item of news that he’d heard that day.

   Robert ignored his attempts to engage in conversation, answering with curt replies. Thankfully the car slowed to a halt as they reached their destination.

"That’s £3 mate,” the cabbie shouted over his shoulder.

   Robert handed a £5 note over as he stepped out of the car. The driver started to count his change.

   “Don’t worry. Keep it,” Robert smiled. At least the bloke had tried to be sociable.

 

Inside The Duke, it was unusually quiet. The twenty or so clients looked relaxed, each group blending in with the tasteful expensive decor. The jazz music playing softly did not interfere with the various conversations taking place.

   Robert spotted the short black man who was sitting with two women. Both were blonde, tanned and pretty. His friend caught sight of him and beckoned him over to join them.

   “Robert, meet Lucinda and Victoria,” Ken nodded at each girl as he introduced his friend.

   “Hi Bob,” the girls seemed to say in unison. Robert caught their plummy boarding school accents. He dismissed their abbreviation of his name. They weren’t to know he hated the contraction. All his friends addressed him as Robert.

   Greeting his newly made acquaintances, he noticed that all three glasses were empty.

   “Can I get anybody a drink?” he asked politely.

   “I’ll give you a hand,” Ken offered, standing up and brushing past the pretty Lucinda. She smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. At least her parents had sent her to a good orthodontist thought Robert as he bent to pick up the glasses.

 

Robert and Ken made their way to the bar. The pretty young assistant (The Duke didn’t have barmaids), smiled as she happily took Robert’s order.

   “Where’d you meet those two?” he asked as the assistant left.

   “They were at Bojangles last night; both at Ox and Cow,” Ken replied, popping a pistachio nut in his mouth.

   Robert smiled. It didn’t take a genius to know what Ken was thinking. It cost a lot of money to attend the private secretarial college. Obviously the two girls came from wealthy families.

   The assistant returned with the four cocktails. Robert paid the £16; picked up the two drinks Ken had left behind, and made his way back to the table.

   “Are you coming to the party?” Victoria asked as Robert slid into the empty seat beside her. He could smell her perfume as she turned to look at him. He had to admit she was bloody attractive, yet he knew that he’d probably be tired of her the minute he started getting to know her.

   Robert glanced at Ken, awaiting some indication. Ken nodded slyly, his eyes pleading with Robert to oblige. “Are you inviting me?” Robert asked. He felt her knees press closer to him as she stared into his eyes.

 

 

Stella opened the door to her flat. The agency had described it as “a comfortable studio flat in a highly attractive residential area.” Even allowing for artistic licence, the statement was somewhat exaggerated.

   Her ‘studio flat’ consisted of a small living room come bedroom with kitchenette and a bathroom. However; with accommodation difficult to find she had taken it immediately. Well it was in a nice part of town and handy for the city she had reassured herself. Most of her fellow neighbours in the block were either students or the offspring of wealthy parents. Although the rent was outrageously high, Stella had turned it into a cosy little retreat. She had badgered her mum Joan into giving her a few choice items of furniture from home (much to Emma’s chagrin), and added a couple of things as she could afford them.

   Stella filled the kettle with water and plugged it in. She flicked through the collection of albums. Finally deciding on America’s “Ventura Highway”, she placed it on the turntable and turned the volume up. Returning to the kitchen, she made a cup of coffee and took a sip.

   The move to Oxford had been a good idea. She was still shocked at how quickly things had changed. To think that Tony - the stupid b*****d she cursed as she raised the mug to her lips - had had the cheek to ditch her! Still it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. She had left home two weeks later.

   Joan had always been supportive, and although she had had her reservations, once Stella had explained the reasons for her move, she had proved to be a diamond. Joan had spoken quietly to Clive and soon everything had been arranged.

   The fact that her sister Emma was at Oxford had helped. Emma had agreed that Stella could stay in the house she rented with her boyfriend until she found somewhere permanent. It was a situation that Stella had not liked, but knew that any remonstration on her part would lead to bickering with Emma and the eventual intervention of her father.

   She had lasted four weeks in the company of her elder sister. Emma was a law unto herself and they had argued over the trivial routine she adhered to religiously. Calls had to be logged (stating length of call, time, and whether the call had been local or long distance). Any dishes not immediately washed had offended Emma. Even the purchase of food, had been a major area of concern with Emma.

   Things had finally come to a head when Stella had brought a man home and invited him to spend the night without Emma’s prior approval. A week later she had moved out to avoid her sisters increasing bitchiness and looks of disgust.

   Stella stepped out of the bath and reached for the towel. She caught a glimpse of her body in the mirror, stopped to study herself in front of it, and smiled at the sight.

   Her breasts were small, almost girlish. As if to compensate, she had been blessed with a naturally lean body. Her legs were shapely if not long. Had she had been taller; she could easily have been a model. She had no problem with her weight; luckily she could eat like a horse and not put on a pound.

   At nineteen, her breasts would not grow much bigger, nor would she get any taller. Nevertheless she was satisfied with the equipment she had; it had served her well enough. She knew that once she decided to go after a man, they usually took notice of her slim young body and forgot her shortcomings. By the time they actually saw her small breasts, they were usually happy to take them in their hands.

   Briefly she touched her breasts, but before the tingling began in her n*****s, she stopped herself. She had to be ready in fifteen minutes. There was no time for that. She stopped daydreaming and began drying herself.

   Walking naked through the room, Stella searched through her wardrobe. Eventually she settled on a tight fitting pair of candy striped Benetton trousers, a thin lilac cashmere cardigan and a pair of flat shoes. Taking out a pair of miniscule black briefs and matching bra from the drawer, she quickly dressed.

   It took only a few minutes to dry and style her short-cropped hair. She suffered from a minor skin irritation, which played up whenever she wore make up. Fortunately she needed none. Her natural looks needed very little complimenting, and she contented herself with a touch of red lipstick. Checking herself in the mirror, she picked up the bottle of perfume and applied some lightly behind her ears.

   Grabbing her bag and a coat, she turned off the light and closed the door behind her.

 

 

The pub was not packed and Stella saw Eamon propped against the bar. He in turn noticed her and signalled her to join him.

   She had met Eamon through Emma and had taken a liking to him. Not that she would ever go out with him as Emma had wished; he just wasn’t her type, but she enjoyed his company. Eamon was one of the few friends she had made since coming to Oxford. She knew he had a crush on her and often teased and promised him the hope that one day they might get together.

   It was Eamon that had invited her to the party tonight. At first she had refused, but later on realized she needed to get out and about. Finally she had agreed to go.

   As the pub started to fill up, and several people going to the party arrived, Stella had second thoughts. They were so immature. None of them interested her. She wondered whether Eamon would mind if she didn’t go after all. Maybe she might develop a headache and excuse herself. However, Stella knew he had been looking forward to the party for weeks. She resigned herself to the dreary evening ahead.

 

 

Robert knew it had been a mistake to go along with Ken. The two bimbos were both good looking and friendly, but they were boring him to death. He had met their types on hundreds of previous occasions. Both came from wealthy backgrounds, had gone to posh boarding schools and on completion of their course at Oxford and County Secretarial College would become a personal secretary in a city firm (with a little help from daddy of course), or drift into publishing.

   To them, Oxford was their final juvenile adventure before they took on careers and responsibility. They would fool around with the trendy people, not getting seriously involved, then as soon as their final exam was passed they would detach themselves from the current ‘bit of rough’ and be off on their glittering paths to success.

   As Robert looked around the nightclub, he recognized one or two young black guys. They were obviously out trying to land the rich catch. He nodded in acknowledgement, and then proceeded towards the bar. Ken and the ‘blonde beauties’ followed. None of the happy trio attempted to gain the barman’s attention. Robert got the feeling that he would be buying all night.

   Having paid for the drinks, he turned to face the sparse dance floor. Ken and his friends had already found a table. Robert’s eyes moved among the crowd until he saw her. He slowly sipped his gin and bitter lemon.

   She was laughing. Her appearance and movements aroused feelings that had lain dormant in him for a long time. She looked up and caught him watching, but either ignored or was genuinely unaware of his attention. The record ended and she returned to a small group.

   Robert’s sullen mood suddenly changed. He ordered another round of drinks and brought them to Ken and the bimbettes. Dismissing their thanks, he sat down, making sure he was facing in her direction. He joined in the conversation and when a funky record came on, he led Victoria on to the dance floor.

   Robert hoped she would also get up, but to his disappointment, she remained with her friends. After the second record, he excused himself and returned to the bar. She was laughing again, obviously having a good time. Her hand rested lightly on the boy’s (he couldn’t have been no more than nineteen) shoulder. She went to her bag, removed her purse and walked towards the bar.   

   Robert didn’t know what to do. Here she was standing right beside him, waiting to be served. It should have been easy to strike up a conversation. Under normal circumstances he would have tried a corny opener on her. Somehow nothing came to mind. Instead he merely stared at her. Not quick glances or surreptitious sly looks; he simply stared.

   She noticed his attention and turned away. He wondered if she was offended by his blatant visual examination. He listened to her voice, watched her pay for the drinks and walk away. His eyes did not leave her until she handed a glass to the boy and received his peck on the cheek.

   Robert whistled to the barman and ordered yet another round. At least the gin would lessen his disappointment. He returned to Ken, Victoria and Lucinda and decided to put her out of his mind. Every now and then he would sneak a glance at her. Once or twice he had caught her returning his looks.

   Then a really bassy, up-tempo song came over the sound system. That was her cue. She took to the dance floor. Robert knew then that he had to have her. Every gesture she made aroused him. She was not a great dancer, but she moved so confidently. He was caught in a trance, taking in every inch of her slim young body as she danced, teasing and taunting him. He wanted her badly. Not just for one night - he wanted her for keeps.

   The spell was broken as the boy joined her and took her hand. They stayed on the floor for a couple of records. She obviously enjoyed his company. More than that, he had to be her boyfriend.   

   “I’m going soon,” Robert said to Ken, hiding his anger.

   “Just give me ten more minutes man,” Ken pleaded. He knew he was well in with either or both of the blondes. Robert hadn’t even tried to get off with Victoria, and he wasn’t prepared to lose both girls because of Robert’s superior attitude.

   “I’ll wait upstairs,” Robert replied as he emptied his glass and got up.

   As he passed Victoria and Lucinda, he made a tame excuse to explain his departure that they seemed to accept without doubt, promised them both that they’d see him again and then walked up the stairs.

   He knew why he was upset. It was her. For two years he had not come close to forming a relationship. He had been with women; he’d had great sex with a few, but he’d never fallen for any of them.

   Why hadn’t he talked to her? He could still go back and try. If only she knew how much she had got to him.

   He felt a tap on his shoulder.

   “Do you know where I can get some cigarettes?” she smiled as he turned around.

 

Author's Note

Love feedback on style (I can't seem to get the lyrics to justify on here, but they are on my MS), dialogue and grammar. Most importantly does the story interest.

Reviews

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

The story is very interesting, and it kept my attention. To me it's like reading a real published book. The description was there, not too much but not too little just enough. You can already see the main characters personalities. It's going to be fun finding out what happens to the two, like when he actually approaches her. Also i want to know how she reacted to him, when she noticed him. This was great, i haven't read anything like this on this site since i've been here.

[marjorie noble]

It is difficult to determine how I see this work now. The characters are very much like the Hollywood club goers we have here in LA--a lot of dense character summary revealing shallow people--so at this point, I'm not invested in how they fare. The description of the race was quite dynamic and the writing really took off when Robert or Bob was in his element. Stella seems so hardened and superficial and Robert is vain and I'm not quite sure at this point what the allure is--but this is just the first chapter--it would be intriguing to see if they change fundamentally.